


Happy Thirty Seventh Birthday, Dean

by hellodarlingjen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Jealous Sam Winchester, Kinda, M/M, Sam In Panties, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5817955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellodarlingjen/pseuds/hellodarlingjen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Dean's thirty seventh birthday and he's ready to hide himself away in his bedroom with a bottle of Jack, a six pack, and some burgers. But what he finds in his bedroom definitely turns his birthday into something great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Thirty Seventh Birthday, Dean

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hi hello, this is my first fanfic for the Supernatural fandom. This fic is unbetaed, so any mistakes you find are my fault, and I apologize beforehand. I hope that I've portrayed them well enough, and if I haven't, I'm so so so sorry.Please don't be rude if you don't like it, but I do hope you enjoy :)

Everything had been pretty damn shitty as of late, and Dean wasn't expecting much when it came to his birthday. Over the years he'd adjusted to it being something that took a backseat to hunting, and he'd accepted that. Thanks to the events that had taken place over the last year or so, both with him and Sam fucking up again and again, he hadn't been expecting anything big or special or even menial. He certainly hadn't been expecting to come back to the bunker, with a bottle of Jack Daniels under his arm, a greasy bag with two burgers and fries, and a six pack of beer in hand, to find his baby brother in his bedroom in nothing but a pair of thin, loose sweatpants on, with a hint of lace along his hipbones.

Okay, Dean was (now) thirty seven years old and he knew that his blood should definitely not be rushing southwards that damned fast. His mouth was suddenly dry, and he could tell that his mouth was hanging open by the way Sam's eyebrows rose just a bit, a hint of a smirk playing along his lips. Dean could see the way that tension had seeped from Sam's limbs just from his reaction, and he knew that, even while they'd been fooling around for who knows how long, his brother was still likely nervous that Dean wouldn't react in the way that he'd be expecting.

Trying to get ahold of himself, he took a few long strides into his room, and set all of his lonely birthday supplies on one of his night stands, unable to properly look at Sam while he tried to get his body under control. He was getting way too old for surprises like this, and he knew that tomorrow was holding some old geezer jokes for him. Once he was sure that his blatant attraction to his younger brother was under control, he turned to face said man, who had taken a seat on the side of his bed, sweatpants riding teasingly low on his hips, showing off more of that dark lace that Dean desperately wanted to rip off of him.

"So, how does it feel being thirty seven?" Sam asked as he crossed one leg over the other, hiding away any signs that he was getting hard or even a little bit turned on. Dean almost pouted. Almost. "Or, maybe I should ask, how does it feel becoming an old geezer?" Damn, so the old man jokes were coming rather early, not that it particularly bothered Dean. He'd just been hoping he'd ha little bit longer to enjoy not being called an old man. Not that he didn't get called it ever since he hit his thirties.

Wetting his lips, Dean almost missed the way Sam's eyes tracked the way his tongue had swiped across his lips, and he inwardly was glad to know that he wasn't the only one unaffected by his brother. "I think it feels pretty damn good, but you know what feels even better?" He took a few steps closer. "Seein' my baby bro in nothing but sweats and, 'm guessing, lacy panties, all ready for his big brother." Once he was close enough to actually touch Sam, he reached out and cupped his cheek, stroking his thumb over an ever fading bruise, and he was relieved to see that he no longer flinched when the bruise was touched.

He watched as Sam's eyes fluttered shut after a moment, watching as his lips parted in a sigh, and his eyebrows relaxed. He took in everything that he could of his brother, eyes tracking over his face over and over again, memorizing as much as he could, even though he had every detail of Sam memorized right down to the faintest of freckles on his shoulders and the way his muscles rippled when in the middle of an orgasm. He remembered the scars that littered his baby brother's fingers, his arms, his shoulders, his back, his chest, everywhere. There was barely an inch of Sam that wasn't covered in something, be it a mole, or a scar, or even a freckle or two. He was marked up from years of all the bullshit that they've been through. Dean Dean knew he wasn't the only one who watched his brother. Sam watched him too, and he wouldn't bet anything on the fact that Sam had his details memorized right down to the freckles on his thighs.

When Sam's eyes opened, Dean watched as a smirk slid across his brother's lips, and noticed the way one of Sam's hands was moving lower and lower to his own hips, before he was shimmying out of those way-too-loose sweat pants and his free hand had moved to Dean's chest, pushing him back a few steps. Soon those sweats were off and the elder Winchester was graced with the sight of his baby brother in form fitting, black panties, lace hugging his hips and, when Dean peered around him not-so-casually, his ass.

The blood in his brain seemed to rush southwards once again, and he became lightheaded thanks to that, mouth parting as he tried to say something. Nothing came to mind, though, as he stared at Sammy's too-hot-for-words body, heart pounding to help move all of that blood downwards, and he knew that this was probably the best birthday present he's ever gotten.

Well. Probably not the best, but certainly it was up there. He remembered when he's turned twenty one and Sam had been a sweet little thing, getting on his knees and sucking on Dean's cock until his lips were bright pink and plump. Or when he'd turned twenty nine and Sam had bent over Baby one night and had spread his legs for him, saying that 'even though I know we'll find a way to keep you from going to hell, I want you to fuck me stupid, 'cause it's your birthday'. He'd worn a butt plug that time, and Dean had been grateful, because even while he loved foreplay, it's nice to be able to sink your cock into someone already stretched out and prepped. His thirtieth birthday hadn't been too shabby either, the stress from hell and the flashbacks causing him to be way too tense, so on his birthday Sam had dragged his pants and had kept his body pressed into the bed with Sam's mouth between his legs, tongue shoved between his ass cheeks, eating him out like his life depended on it. It had been fantastic, despite everything.

"God, Sammy, got all ready for me, huh?" He asked, voice almost cracking as he watched Sam watch him, hazel eyes almost blown over with lust and something more, something feral. Dean could almost see a trace of jealousy hidden under all the greens and browns and blues, but it faded away almost as fast as it had been there. The hand on his chest gripped the front of his flannel shirt, before he was pushed back a bit more, and he went along willingly.

"I want your clothes off, Dean, and then I want you on the bed, on your back." Sam's voice was cool, collected, a bit on the hard side. Dean could feel his dick dripping pre-come.

Doing as he was told, Dean removed his flannel shirt first, unbuttoning it with shaking fingers, body going into overdrive with need. When he finally got all the buttons undone, he practically ripped it from his arms and tossed it somewhere in his room. Next were his pants, and he worked at the top button before finally getting it undone. He undid his fly next, and then shoved his pants down his thighs, kicking them away. He could feel Sam' yes on him, and he swallowed thickly, dick straining in his underwear, a slight wet spot where the head rested. He shoved them down his legs, cock popping out and slapping right below his belly button before bobbing out. His underwear were gone in a flash, tossed away and he heard them hit something, causing whatever it was to fall.

A chuckle came from Sam, and Dean cast him a long look, and his brother made the hand gesture, silently telling him to get a move on. Moving to the bed, Dean laid down on the cool blanket, heart pounding rapidly in his chest as he pushed himself up the bed so that his head leaned against a pillow.

"You will not touch me, Dean. You will not doing anything until I say so," Sam said as he too crawled up the bed, kneeling by Dean, before he reached down and tugged his panties down a bit. He reached under himself, and even though Dean wasn't getting the best view of what was going on with Sam's hand, he could guess what was to come. "'m all ready for you, you know." There was a wet sound, and then Dean saw that Sam's fingers were buried deep in his ass. "You took too long to get that booze and food. Was almost ready to fuck myself."

Dean swallowed thickly, and he definitely knew he wouldn't have minded walking in on his baby brother fucking himself, be it with his fingers or a toy that he knew Sam kept in a bag hidden away in his room. Dean may or may not have stumbled across it. He kept himself quiet, holding back any sounds that he knew he could easily make if Sam kept that up.

Sam was so goddamn gorgeous, Dean thought, and he knew that even while they kept lovers when they wanted to, he loved his brother with all his heart. Through thick and thin, through making love and rough, dirty, sloppy sex. He loved him, and he always would.

Watching his brother like this, Dean knew right then and there that he wouldn't last long. His dick ached just at the sight, and Sam's eyes had fallen shut, groans escaping his mouth as he fucked himself on his fingers. After a few moments of leaving Dean with an aching erection and fucking himself into full hardness, his baby brother pulled his fingers from his hole with a slick sound, and he reached towards the bedside table, grabbing the lube that sat there.

Pulling his panties back up and into place, Sam climbed over Dean's lap and lowered himself, positioning Dean's dick between his clothed cheeks, rubbing and grinding himself down on his brother's hard on. "Fuck, Sammy," Dean groaned out, hands itching to touch and grip Sam's hips, to pull him down harder on his cock. But he knew better. Sam was in charge, and he knew better than to go against his younger brother's wishes if he wanted to get laid.

Sam grinned, all white teeth and dimples, hazel eyes sparkling with lust and humor. He leaned in, capturing Dean's lips with his own as he grinded down on his cock, rubbing it between his cheeks and moving his hips in such a damned sinful way. The older Winchester couldn't stop his moan, and his brother had taken the chance to slip his tongue into Dean's mouth, sliding it around, tasting and feeling, before tangling his tongue with Dean's own.

It felt way too good to be real, and he nearly began to grind up against Sam, but he held himself still, returning the kisses the only real action he was allowed to give. When his baby brother pulled away, panting, Dean knew he'd done his job correctly, but instead of being allowed to give Sam a cocky grin, he ended up letting out a deep groan when he felt Sam grind down extra harshly on his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he concentrated on just the feeling and on doing what he'd been told to do. It was difficult, but eventually he'd fought the feeling enough where it was more of a numb itch under his skin. He felt Sam moving around some, his dick no longer pressed between his brother's ass cheeks, and when he opened his eyes, he found Sam slipping the panties to the side. The lube was still gripped in his hand, and he poured some onto his hand, before wrapping it tightly around Dean's dick, slicking him up.

The lube bottle was tossed away, and before Dean knew it, the head of his cock was positioned at Sam's sweet, slick hole, and his brother was slowly slipping him inside, and then he was sliding down Dean's dick, the faintest of lace rubbing against him. The older brother's head fell back and he groaned lowly, hands gripping at the bedsheets tightly. When Sam's ass was flush to Dean's body, the former waited a moment, before he slowly began to raise himself up, and then slid right back down.

It started off with a fairly slow pace as Sam probably got adjusted, him repeating the same motions. Even after having sex for who knew how many times, Dean would still never get over how tight his baby brother was, and how good he felt around him.

"How does it feel, Dean? Am I good enough for you?" Sam asked slowly, his voice dropping an octave or two as he leaned down, stopping his ministrations for a moment. "I know I'm not her, I don't have that special bond that you seem to have with her, but am I still good enough for you?"

Oh. So that was why Dean had seen jealousy in her eyes earlier. Swallowing thickly as he tried to think of the perfect words to respond to him, he felt his brother's ass tighten up around him, squeezing his cock. He groaned deeply, and Sam leaned just a bit closer.

"Well? Am I good enough, big brother?"

Dean finally was able to get ahold of himself, and he nodded rapidly. "Y-yeah, yeah, you're definitely good enough, Sammy, baby. You'll always be good enough," he responded, voice deep and husky, almost hoarse, as he made sure to keep eye contact with Sam. His brother seemed to be searching his eyes for a moment, before he nodded, accepting his answer.

Sam began to pick up the pace, moving up and dropping himself right back down on Dean's cock, working his hips some as he grinded down on his brother whenever he got the chance, and he was just stuck watching and feeling Sam, and those damned panties. "Son of a bitch, you're really fuckin' amazing, Sammy," he moaned out with one particular movement, and he knew he'd be done for any moment now.

It probably had something to do with the fact that Dean hadn't exactly been sleeping around since the mark came off, and he'd made very good friends with his right hand, but he knew he would be coming way too damned easily. Sam seemed to sense that, and he smirked at Dean, slowing his movements as he grinded down on Dean's cock, squeezing and tightening up his inner muscles, a hint of lace close to the base of his dick.

"You're not gonna last long, now are you, big brother?" That cocky ass smirk never left Sam's face. "Gonna come so soon? While your baby bro is so nicely riding your cock? Tsk, Dean, can't say I'm surprised, what with your age."

"I'm only thirty seven," Dean retorted quickly, and Sam 'tsked' again as he squeezed down on his dick. One hand moved to press over the anti-possession tattoo on his chest, and the other moved to rub Sam's cock, through the panties. He moved them lower in the front, just a bit, so the cock head would poke out and Sam could rub his thumb over it, biting his bottom lip slowly as he seemed to hold back a groan.

"Yes, and you know what?" Sam leaned his upper body in close, forehead pressing against Dean's, lips brushing against his. "The birthday boy can touch now." He kissed him slowly, deeply, before pulling back and rubbing his hand down Dean's chest, sweat slicking his hairline as he looked down at his older brother. Dean didn't waste a moment as he reached out with both hands to grip Sam's hips bruisingly tight, green eyes flashing as he looked at his brother.

He muttered a quiet 'finally', as his fingers played at the lace against Sam's hips, rubbing his thumbs over the soft fabric, stroking his hipbones. "So gorgeous."

Without further ado, Dean lifted his baby brother up and then dragged him back down, hips stuttering as he fucked up into his brother finally. He grinded his dick into his brother, feeling the way he clutched around his cock. Sam's hand was still playing at his cock, rubbing himself off through those fucking panties that still moved against Dean's dick whenever he fucked into him.

It felt way too damn good, and he was glad that his brother was accepting of the fact that Dean wasn't going to last very long, because he could feel that tell-tale sign of orgasm in his belly. There was that heat, hot and tight, as he fucked up into Sam, the lace adding just a hint of something else to it, and he could feel himself getting close. "Sammy, you might wanna rub yourself harder, gonna come," he groaned out.

He still grinded and thrusted up into Sam, still lifted him up and dragged him back down, and Sam seemed perfectly fine with Dean's comment, because he groaned and seemed to rub at himself harder, shifting the panties a bit lower as he gripped the top half of his own dick, rubbing his thumb over the head some more.

Dean felt his orgasm hit him before he even realized what was happening, and his grip on Sam's hips increased as he dragged him down hard on his cock, grinding up into him as he came, filling his baby brother up. His head fell back against the pillow, still holding Sam's ass down on him tightly. He felt his brother's ass clench up on his sensitive cock, and when he looked, he saw Sam coming into his hand, face pink and flushed, mouth parted on a moan.

While his orgasmic high was hitting him, Dean stared at Sam with love and adoration, and he knew right then that this was definitely one of the best birthday presents yet. When Sam was done coming, he practically sprawled on top of Dean, head pressing into Dean's shoulder as he panted. Reaching up and rubbing his hand over his younger brother's back, he kissed Sam's temple.

"Happy birthday, Dean," he heard, and Dean couldn't stop the smile from appearing on his face. Yeah. This was certainly a great birthday.


End file.
